“Did the physician tell you not to shout at me?” he asked, amused at her terror.
“He did,” Elizabeth admitted guiltily, though she felt strangely calmer, either because he had withstood her outburst or perhaps because he had proposed to her.
“I prefer you to call me Fitzwilliam,” he continued. His eyes burned into her, but tearing hers away from his was impossible.
“Well, Miss Bennet? Did you understand my request?”
“I understood,” she said, feeling the blush spreading across her face and down her neck and perhaps into her hands; her whole body felt as if it was consumed by a fever. “You have a rather unconventional way of making marriage proposals,” she finally said, as though he were healthy and their lives lay ahead with many years to share. And he sensed and deeply appreciated that space of ordinariness she was offering them…him. For a moment, they were a man and a woman beyond the tragic situation they found themselves in, standing aside from the tragedy they were living through.
“Circumstances pushed me to act on both occasions. The first time, I was impaired by my prejudice—now, by a wretched bullet.”
She said nothing because there was no reply to such a sad statement.
“Elizabeth, the first time I asked you to marry me, I wanted you as my wife with all that encompassed. Now…as you might have guessed, it is more of a…position of employment.”
“Darcy!” she exclaimed, but her tone was far warmer.
“Fitzwilliam, please.”
“Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth agreed and continued. “How can you say something so…strange?”
“Because I have decided we shall not lie. We shall look at things as they are. And, most importantly, because in this world, I have only two people I wish to ensure are safe—Georgiana and you.”
“Very well, but I—”
“You are the love of my life, and I truly cannot imagine how any other woman could claim that title. After you, there will be no one else—you may be certain of it.”
“Fitzwilliam!”
“Yes, Elizabeth, will you be my wife and then my widow?” he asked, and for the first time since entering that room, she heard sadness in his voice. And perhaps a touch of fear. For, in the end, it was natural. He could not be in that situation and feel at peace. “I am afraid of death, but I regret leaving you behind even more,” he said without looking at her. But it was a declaration that had to be made. She saw in the calm that he surrounded himself with not a mask meant to hide anything from her—not fear of death nor the regret of leaving life soyoung—but instead armour to protect him from emotions and feelings that might divert him from his path. And that path, as he had said, had a single purpose: to ensure his sister and she would be safe, no matter what befell him. There was no time for hesitation, and the same resolve enveloped her.
“What do you want me to do, then. If it is a position of employment, I must know my duties.”
He did not hesitate when he answered, proving it was a decision upon which he had reflected. “Everything that I did until a few days ago. Both houses need to run smoothly, and I do not mean the housework but paying the servants, hiring new ones, supervising the expenses, overseeing repairs when needed…everything that a household may need. In addition, Pemberley must continue to provide the income it always has done, and again, you will face important decisions such as selling the crops, not only supervising their production. Then, most importantly, Georgiana, who must have an adult figure to follow until she marries—”
“Yes,” Elizabeth interrupted him.
“Yes?” he asked, uncertain of her meaning.
“Yes, I will marry you—”
“Despite our past fights?” he asked, full of hope.
“The past no longer exists. We were two beautiful but immature fools. Now, we are two adults who define this relationship in this unique way and both agree on it.”
Elizabeth spoke with a passion born of pure conviction. It was what she had always desired, precisely as he had said—a future not bound by obligation, unlike Charlotte’s, marrying the first man who came along just to have her own home and a quiet life. Charlotte’s life might be free of material struggles, but it was undoubtedly not happy. As she had once said, ‘There are moments when I am content’, but for Elizabeth, such a life would never suffice.
“Thank you,” he said, though without looking at her. He wanted to give her time to reflect on what she had committed to doing, even if only briefly.
“Your room is beautiful,” Elizabeth said, letting her gaze linger on the elegant, dark-wood furniture. The curtains had been drawn back, and evening shadows were already visible through the tall windows. She had lost track of time, for it seemed as though she had always been there with him, his future wife.
She looked about the room and blushed. She was, after all, in his bedroom. Although she had said yes to his marriage proposal, no lady ever found herself in her betrothed’s bedchamber before marriage.
“Your room is beautiful too. It is next to mine. Would you like to see it?” he offered, but she shook her head, returning to the present where there was no time to waste. There was so much to do, and she still knew so little. Only that he wanted to marry her and, in doing so, secure her future. He had indeed thought about what he could do for her beyond what she could do for him and Georgiana.
“How shall we marry?” she asked, indicating that she was ready to embark on this adventure and expected him to guide her. Any shadow of pride or prejudice was forever buried in a past that neither cared to remember.
Darcy glanced at the clock on the wall above the fireplace. “In half an hour, my uncle, Lord Matlock, and my godfather, the Duke of Nantwich, will be here to find out what we have decided and resolve how they can help me…how they can help us.”
